Fuzzy says she has voices in her head. Yup, those are called thoughts. We all have them. Her psychiatric team has told her those voices are NOT part of her. Are things that, like a cancerous tumor, can be removed. With drugs, electrical shocks in the brain or surgery, yes, with a knife, that kind of surgery. When fuzzy is having particularly loud voices in her head, she runs to a Psychiatrists and shouts: "The voices, which you have taught are not a part me, can be safely removed, like a tumor, you taught me, are getting too loud and are bugging me, help help!!!!!" Each time Fuzzy does that, each time she runs to the men who she runs to, she gets more drugs, never less, more. And the psychiatrists dare not apply any more high voltage into her brain, because they know if they keep it up, someone might go to prison. Someday. Maybe some day. Remember Thalidomide? Who went to prison for that? No one. Fuzzy told me the voices in her head are so loud she cannot hear anything else. She says WHAT? Excuse me? Pardon me and HUH? After every single sentence said to her by anyone. Everyone [well, read on].... Walked by her, she said, "Hi Tom, how are you?" I answer, "Oh, I am fine!" And she says "What?" If I say, "Oh, fine day, yes, I am fine!" she says "HUH?" If I answer "A bit wobbly, but will survive the day" she says, "Pardon me?" I asked her as soon as I became tired of having to repeat everything I say to her, I mean EVERYTHING, I told her, "LISTEN, Fuzzy, listen to me!" She said "What?" I said, "Let me finish....." "HUH?" "GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR." "Pardon me?" STOP!!!!!! IT!!!!!!! "I know you hear me just fine, I will not repeat myself." "WHAT?" I looked away. "Okay, Tom, what do you want to tell me?" [!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] "You and I are going to play a game, I will say something, you will NOT reply by requiring me to repeat myself, because I know you heard me just fine." "WHAT?" I looked away. And then she said, "OKAY." [!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] That was almost a year ago, if that silly retarded psychiatric victim, Fuzzy, can hear me, that means she can hear everything just fine. She is my friend. I worry about her. She is so vulnerable [pychiatrists love it when women are week - so do rapists and robbers and con men, tarot card readers, and, important, medical doctors] SHe still asks for people to repeat things for her, it is constant, and brings on the rolling of eyes by people, and sub-vocal PFT - is a habit, she does it to everyone, it is two year old child behavior, similar to stuff MENTAL PATIENTS DO WHEN THEY NEED SOME CONTROL OVER THEIR MASTERS. To make a psychiatrist repeat himself is a tiny bit of control, that a psych patient might have, to say, "What" And of course, that drives a psychiatrist or a psychiatric nurse bonkers, they get impatient, even angry, but never admit it it and UP HER DOSE OF PILLS. Oh it is behavior like what convicts do, in their cells, when locked up. Smear shit, or hurt themselves, scream insuts, anything for some attention [human contact]. I have tried to tell her to stop talking to those psychiatric people, to stop saying anything to them, to stop listening to them, to stop asking them for anything, to get away from them. She says, "What?" I turn my head, angry about being played with that way, and immediately she answers, sensibly, "Tom I need my pills, the voices are increasing, the pills make the voices quiet." Okay, any answer is a good answer, except for "HUH?" I have told her she is addicted to those drugs and she should see a medicine man who is interested in weaning her off those drugs, because they do NOT make the voices go away, but they DO make a person into a retard. "WHAT?" I turn my head, angrier. "FUZZY, your are a drug addict." "WHAT?" ..... I turn my head, even angrier.... "I am NOT an addict, Tom, I am a psychiatric patient." "Yup, you are that too." "I need my meds." "Yup, you do, that is because you are addicted and will suffer terrible withdrawal if you try to stop eating your pills, it will take a day or two and then you will descend into the pits of hell.... I know how you feel, addcition is crippling and withdrawel is too. I know." "WHAT?" I turn my head and..... "NO, that is my chemicals getting out of balance. My brain chemical need to be re-balanced. My mentall illness is causing a chemical imbalance, Tom, the Doctor explained it all!" "NO, that is a drug withdrawel, excaclty the same thing a heroine addict or a crack head or a crsytal meth smoker suffers. It is the same thing, you do NOT go see a psychiatrist to get off drugs, those guys exist, they make their money by getting you ON DRUGS." "WHAT? OH, yes, maybe, Tom, but it seems I cannot trust people....." "THAT IS RIGHT! DON'T TRUST PEOPLE." "But I need friends." "No, you don't, Fuzzy. You don't need friends, you WANT friends. Look around. See your friends?" "I have none." "BULLSHIT." I named five people we both know that love her, that worry about her, that walk with her, that break bread, drink, visit. She said, "Lorraine loves me. Yes." Then, scrinching up, she said, "Bill, in # 107, he loves me." "Yup, and.....?" "Alice loves me...." "Yup." "My daughters don't love me." "Yes, they do, but they have children and they don't want your grand-daughters to see you because you acting crazy all the time. YOU KNOW THAT. Your daughters love you." "BUT..." "NO BUTS. GROW UP, YOU ARE 58 YEARS OLD." We were walking outside, and there was, behold, Bill, from # 107 Bill waived and shouted, "FUZZY! HI! GOOD TO SEE YOU! HOW ARE YOU! I WAS WORRIED!!!!" [she had disappeared for weeks] She answered "WHAT?"
It would be a manipulative and dirty trick to go to the neighbours of hers, that I know,, and tell them to do the same thing, to NOT repeat themselves. If I did that, I would be a BASTARD. I am hoping she thinks about it, that there isn't anything special about me, my voice is not special, it isn't magic, I don't have a magik that makes my voice hear-able to her when no-one else's is. I don't think she has realized that I am one of those friends who loves her, well, oh, wrong, sure she knows. BUT, I am not able to climb over her demons and shout louder than them, I am not powerful, I am just a guy from down the hall. . I found out long ago that there are no 80 year old schizophrenics. Know what there aren't? They grow up in lands where they are left alone by AMERICAN STYLE PSYCHIATRY. NOT interfered with, left to be. Guarded so they don't misbehave, but not drugged, cut, shocked or [worse than all] threatened. 80 year olds that are alive, are alive not because of AMERICAN STYLE PSYCHIATRIC INTERVENTION, but IN SPITE OF IT.
